


Gloria

by SandrC



Series: Eldritch-tober 2020 [15]
Category: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)
Genre: Minor child endangerment, Oakvale Bad End, eldritch horror, minor gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:48:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27040777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandrC/pseuds/SandrC
Summary: Bear witness to the rise of a new god.(The Oak twins watch their father drown.)
Relationships: Lark Oak & Sparrow Oak
Series: Eldritch-tober 2020 [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950820
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Gloria

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 15: Cursed
> 
> Considered Autumn. Decided the twins. What were they up to in Oakvale Bad End? Watching their dad turn into a horror terror.
> 
> And they aren't scared of him because they know that neither their father nor the thing he has become will ever hurt them because they are a part of them both. :3c

Lark and Sparrow were no strangers to danger. They _welcomed_ it, in fact. Danger may as well be their middle name! They've tried to fight _a god_ before! One _they_ helped summon by overseeing a murder pit! It would have been _glorious_.

Past tense. _Would_ have been.

They hadn't _meant_ to have overheard the argument between their father and _his_ mother? Their _paternal grandmother_? They had never met her before—apparently for _good reason_ , as it seems their father was from this strange new land—but the way she refused to meet them... _stung_ in a strange way. They weren't sure how to handle that.

They were even _less_ sure of how to handle what happened next.

Their father's father— _paternal grandfather_ , Barry or Bear or _whatever_ his name was—said something about their birthright. About the power that made them _special_. About it being in _them_ , as well as those Oak men who came before. And instead of turning the other cheek, instead of being _calm_ and _quiet_ like they were used to seeing, as soon as their grandfather hit Sparrow, their father snapped.

_Literally_.

He bent over and _something_ poured out of him like tar or blood or water. From his eyes, his nose, _his mouth_ , the black substance ejected itself at a speed that reminded them of the time Sparrow got a high-level fever and puked so bad that he had to be taken to the hospital. The noises he gave off were terrible and _amazing_ and, for all that it was inhuman, it was equally _glorious_.

Something _inside_ of them, inside of their _veins_ , resonated with the horrific noises and snapping sounds as their father was remade in the glorious image of the thing that lurked inside of their family tree.

It stood and _stood_ and **_stood_** and **_stood_** and _tore_ into their paternal grandfather and _ripped_ him to shreds with its teeth and claws. It let out a joyous howl and turned to tear out into the commune, _destroying_ the residents in its wake. In front of them, arms outstretched, were the other adults, bodily blocking this thing that had once been their father from getting to them or hurting them.

Not that he _would_. Even if it _wasn't_ their father anymore, it wouldn't _hurt_ them. _They_ still were a part of it. _Their_ heart pumped the same substance as _its_ heart did. They knew it would protect them, same as their father would.

It didn't make them feel any better about it.

The viscera and blood was strangely the _least_ awful part of this moment. They didn't mind the violence or the horrible sounds or smell of metal and the feeling of oppressive watching. The most awful part of this moment was that they wanted to join him in the ocean of this thing he had become. They wanted to test eternity alongside him.

They wanted to give in to the siren's song.

Whatever that thing was—and it certainly was _not_ their father, at least in the way that mattered—they _weren't_ afraid of it. Not in the same way that _Darryl_ seemed to be—rooted to the spot in something that seemed _reverent_ to some degree—or the way that _Ron_ seemed to be—fading into the background so that the thing _did not notice him_ —or the way _Glenn_ seemed to be—unnaturally still in a way they've _never_ seen him—or the way that _Paeden_ seemed to be—the way they should be, locked still in childlike _terror_. Instead they were interested at the very least. Worried for _everyone else's_ safety, maybe. Not their own.

Looking at it as it picked up Darryl and created a mouth from the nothingness in order to speak to him, they realized that _they_ were the only ones that could _really_ see it. _See_ their father beneath its skin, covered in an undulating essence they couldn't name. The same undulating essence that they could feel wriggling beneath _their own_ skin, calling out to the greater part of itself.

_Everyone else_ could only see the thing that was inside their father, now coating him. _Nobody but them_ could see their father inside, struggling in the depths of that thing. If they were to become something similar, would no one be able to see them for the monster that lives inside of their veins?

Grandmother Autumn had called them _cursed_. Maybe they were.

But they were _tough_ and they were _many_ and, between the two of them, they _were_ going to pull the father from the depths of himself. Because that's what _he_ would do for _them_.


End file.
